


Dissolution

by Kalael



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Short birthday fic for Morbid_Lizard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 08:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalael/pseuds/Kalael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack finds himself in Pitch's lair for a very specific purpose, and he is not quite sure what he expected but this certainly isn't it.</p><p>If betrayal had a flavor it would be smoky, bitter, and tinged with saline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dissolution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morbid_lizard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbid_lizard/gifts).



> This is really short asdfghj oh well

If betrayal had a flavor it would be smoky, bitter, and tinged with saline. It has the suffocating quality of a brush fire, uncontrolled and overwhelming, and Jack feels like the flames are licking down his throat to burn his heart out. He tries to breathe but his exhales stutter out of him, broken smoke signals on his lips. Guilt eats its way out of his stomach and he feels like he’s filled with acid. Dissolving.

Pitch’s eyes are the color of coal, unused fossil fuel. He’s a relic of the past and the lair is untouched, a tomb that’s been sealed shut like Pitch has died. For all Jack knows, he has. It’s disturbing, the skeletal hands and the sunken eyes, and Jack doesn’t know whether to shift forward or back away as Pitch stands and stares at him. Or rather through him, like he can’t believe that Jack is there.

“I’m here.” He says, and Pitch’s eyelids flutter as though he is waking up from a deep sleep although his eyes had been wide open.

“Really?” Pitch asks, his voice hoarse. “Because I wasn’t sure if you weren’t just a nightmare.” It sounds like a joke but Pitch’s sarcastic tone wavers and Jack wonders just what exactly Pitch’s fears are made of. He steps forward, one hand clenched around his staff and the others balled in the pocket of his sweatshirt. The thing he carries digs into his palm and it hurts. He feels infected and the acidic sting in his abdomen grows more painful.

“I just…wanted to know.” He has to look away, unable to maintain eye contact. Pitch laughs, a strained thing, and he skulks along the edges of the shadows to avoid the light of the lantern hooked over Jack’s staff.

“Wanted to see if the Boogeyman was truly dead?” Pitch’s smile shows a gap in his teeth, where Tooth had knocked out an incisor, and the hand in Jack’s pocket spasms.

“Maybe.” Jack admits. He turns to the lantern on his staff and blows out the candle, sending them into darkness. He can’t even see Pitch’s eyes in the flat black shadows around them.

“Well, as you can see, you are not so fortunate as to find my carcass laid out for you to rejoice over.” Pitch sounds bitter now, and Jack flinches when his voice bounces off the walls. His eyes are slow to adjust to the dark and he can barely make out the shape of his feet against the floor. “Now, you probably want to go back to your Guardian pals and report to them so that you can finish the job.”

“Not really. I didn’t actually plan on telling them I was here.” Jack can feel himself trembling, shivers gliding up his spine and his shoulders twitch involuntarily.

“You didn’t tell them that you came here, did you?” Pitch is curious now and his voice sounds closer, whispering echoes that wrap around Jack’s head.

“No. I brought this.” He pulls his hand out of his pocket and opens it, palm facing upward, and after a moment he feels Pitch’s fingers picking the tooth out of his hand. Pitch’s nails dig in unnecessarily hard and Jack flinches.

“Why? There are no memories in this tooth. Nothing of use, anyway. Did you try to see them?”

“Yes, but I’m sure you know how well that went.” He shudders, a full body reaction that leaves him quaking with aftershocks. He hears Pitch inhale sharply somewhere over his left shoulder and Jack leans towards him.

“So you felt them.” It isn’t a question. Jack closes his eyes. The smoke scratches at his throat, charring his tongue when he responds.

“I did.” Fire in his chest and acid in his stomach, he’s being burned from the inside out he knows it’s only a matter of time before he’s little more than ash.

“And?”

“It hurts.” Jack’s voice breaks and Pitch’s hands wrap around his biceps, encircling them easily and keep him standing. They are close enough that when he opens his eyes he can see Pitch’s features even in this darkness. His eyes are no longer the flat black they were before, instead molten silver that flickers to gold in reaction to Jack’s fear.

“They won’t leave you alone.” Pitch almost sounds excited and Jack grabs his wrists, half heartedly pulling at them. Pitch releases him but then grabs his hands, hissing as he runs his thumbs over Jack’s palms.

Even in the dark he knows that they are patterned with shadows.

“You don’t have much more time.” Jack nods jerkily and Pitch laughs, his grip becoming painful.

“Then, I will be here when you rise from the ashes.” And it’s a figurative thing, but Jack feels as though he’s breaking down into charred limbs and liquefied remains all at once, and the phrase seems far too accurate. He laughs until he sobs and Pitch lowers him to the ground, remaining with him until he finally goes silent.

Pitch’s mouth on his tastes just like the way he imagined it would - smoky, bitter, and tinged with saline.


End file.
